Un-Broken
by MashiarasDream
Summary: Liz has had 12 years to get used to life as a single mom. Raising her son, David, has become her first priority and right now, her son has one big wish: That his Dad come and see his first game with the varsity team of his high-school. And so it happens that one Thursday afternoon, Liz watches Mark get out of his car and back into her life.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Undertaker. All other characters are mine. _

_Author's note: This story has been my "infatuation of the week" (literally, written in just under a week), so I'll post it fast. It's AU. Oh, and I'm still not a native speaker. Or living in the South. I am married to a Southerner, though, so I hope that counts!_

**Thursday**

„Run along, help him. " She gave her son a little push, even though he didn't need it.

He sprinted down the porch stairs towards the car. "Hi Dad!"

Being too old already for hugs but still wanting one, he fidgeted awkwardly for a moment before deciding that the hug was more important than his teenage pride. He threw his arms around his father but let go again so quickly that Mark didn't even have time to hug him back. Then he grabbed Mark's bag and carried it back.

"I'm taking it to the guest room."

"Alright", she nodded.

Mark followed him slowly. He was limping and in quite some pain by the look of it. She forbade her heart the little pang of worry.

"Hi Mark", she said when he had made it up the few steps to the porch. A simple hello that didn't do any of her feelings justice.

"Hi Liz."

He stopped beside her and when she had thought her son was awkward, she was no better. She hid her hands deep in her pockets.

The frown on his face deepened. "You sure this is ok for you? I don't have to stay."

She shook her head: "You came out all the way to see him play. And it's really important to him."

To her son's and her surprise, David had made it into his high-school's varsity basketball team in his freshman year. And tomorrow was the first actual game he was playing. She hadn't found the strength in her heart to put a dampener on his enthusiasm.

"Didn't really think you'd actually come." She had mentally prepared herself for comforting her son up until the very moment Mark's car had shown up in her driveway. But then, maybe she had just transferred her own mindset to him. Mark usually kept his promises to their son. Liz herself was the one would have liked to bail out of this.

"Is that why you agreed?" His laughter sounded forced.

She shrugged. "Is that important?"

"Well, I remember distinctly that you told me you'd call the police if I ever set foot in the house again."

"That was a decade ago." Though in truth, that wasn't enough time. A life-time was barely going to cut it. She sighed. "Not calling the police now. So come on in."

She held the door open for him.

He hesitated but then he followed. His limp was severe enough that he should probably be on crutches. But of course he wouldn't do that. Male pride in the way as usual.

"Nice." He looked around the open ground floor space.

"We like it well enough." It probably wasn't much in terms of what he was used to. Still, his alimony had helped to pay for it.

"Up here, Dad."

Mark looked at her.

"Go up. He wants to show you his room."

"You coming?"

She shook her head.

Slowly, he made his way up the stairs. She wondered how many pain pills it took for him these days to be even halfway pain-free. More than was good for him, she wagered.

A moment later she heard her son's excited voice from upstairs, obviously trying to explain every item in every room to his father. It made her smile. She was doing the right thing, despite her own feelings.

She started to prepare dinner. That gave the two of them time to catch up on everything that had happened since David had last visited Mark. She was grateful that it was basketball that David had chosen and none of his father's other passions. She wasn't sure she could have coped with her son expressing interest in wrestling or ultimate fighting.

It occurred to her that her son probably knew this. Maybe basketball was his way of finding a compromise that satisfied both his parents.

"Mom!" He ran down the stairs taking two at a time and jumping the last four of them altogether.

"Be careful, you're going to break your neck!"

"Are you coming to the game, too?" He opened the cupboard and started to set the table. Even now that he had entered his teenage years, he still automatically did what he had always done and helped her out as much as he could.

"I was planning on it. But if you want to go alone with your Dad, it's fine."

"No, no", he immediately exclaimed. "I want you both to come!"

"Alright then. Here", she gave him the bowl of salad. "Set that on the table if you please. Is your father coming down for dinner?"

"Dad, dinner is ready!"

That was almost creeping her out. It sounded too normal.

But Mark came down the stairs; slower still than he had walked up if that was possible. Of course, the impact on the knees was higher on the way down.

"You ok, Mark?"

"Yeah. The knee is shot. Last match really aggravated it. It'll get better in a few days."

She nodded. What was there to say?

Instead she filled the plates and gave them to David to bring them to the table. "It's just pasta, hope that's ok."

"Mom makes the best pasta in the whole world!"

"Pretty sure the Italians claim that trophy, honey."

"Not true. Yours is the best!"

She smiled. She loved her son to bits.

They sat down, everyone kind of waiting for the others to start.

Mark cleared his throat: "So, are you saying prayers before dinner or something?"

"Not normally, no. Do you want to say something?"

"I…" His eyes caught hers for a split-second before he looked away. "I'm not good at prayers but I guess what I'd want to say is that I'm thankful to be here and be able to see the game tomorrow."

Her son beamed.

It warmed Liz's heart. That was Mark's one redeeming quality. In his own way, he was a good father.

David chatted through dinner, telling his Dad all about the team, about last year's place in the standings, about this year's prospects.

She kept her quiet for the most part. But when they were finished, she said: "Why don't you go out and show your Dad your basketball skills? Maybe he has a few tips for you for tomorrow."

"Oh, that would be so cool! Can we do that?"

Mark nodded: "Sure. As long as I don't have to play. Much as I'd want to, the knee is not going to comply."

She got up and started stacking the plates. David got up, too, and carried the glasses over to the sink.

"It's alright. Go out with your Dad. No chores while he's here."

That got her a hug from her son before he ran upstairs to retrieve his basketball from his room.

"You're a pretty cool mom."

Of course, he'd never actually seen her mommy-ing. Usually, she put her son on a plane on one side of the country and he arranged to have him picked up on the other.

"He's making it rather easy for me." She sometimes wondered whether that was a good sign. He tried to fill the position of the man in the house when he was too young for it really.

"Come on, Dad." He came running back down the stairs, jumping the last few as usual.

She shook her head but didn't comment on it this time.

After she'd done the dishes, she went outside and sat down in the rocking chair on the porch to watch them for a while.

No matter how he had protested that his knee was not up for it, Mark of course hadn't been able to resist to at least showing David how the moves were supposed to go. David did his best to copy his Dad's moves and more often than not he succeeded. Even with his lanky teenage body, it was clear that he had inherited his father's talents for sports.

"Mom, look!" David shouted when he had made a particularly difficult shot.

"Looking great!"

They played for another half an hour. It started to get dark.

"David! You gotta go shower and pack your stuff for school!"

"Just one more shot!"

"One more shot", she agreed.

It turned into ten minutes but then Mark firmly pressed the basketball into David's hands, indicating the end of the training session.

David raced into the house, his energy levels as usual not depleted in the slightest.

Mark came up the porch stairs. For a moment, he looked unsure of what to do. Then he just sat down on the top step. "He's a good player. If he plays well on a team, he can make something out of that."

"His coach tells me the same."

For a while, they were both quiet.

"How's the family?" She finally asked and tried to ignore the stab it gave her heart.

He avoided her eyes. "I don't know."

It didn't take a scientist to figure that one out. "I'm sorry", she said and even meant it.

"You don't have to."

"What?"

"Be nice about it."

She shrugged: "Who says I was? You're leaving another wife heartbroken and two more kids without a father. I feel sorry for that."

He just stared off into the distance.

"Is that why you came?" she finally asked. "To get comfort from the other family?"

He turned around to her: "Do you honestly think I'd come to you for comfort? Not even I am that stupid."

For some reason that hurt her. "You could come for punishment, I can oblige with that."

He chuckled without mirth: "Thanks. I think I'll decline."

It was weird, the knowledge that his second marriage had failed, too. She didn't know what to make of that. "Is it public yet?"

He shook his head. "But the papers have been served."

She didn't ask who had served whom. It made little difference in the end. And it was no indication of whose heart was broken and whose wasn't. She had learned that one the hard way.

"I'm sorry", she repeated.

"Be careful, I might mistake your meaning for trying to comfort me after all."

"I assure you that that wasn't my intention." But then she added: "I know that you're trying, Mark. Your track record isn't very good, but it doesn't mean you aren't trying."

That was the nicest thing she had said to him since she had discovered that he was cheating on her 12 years ago.

He knew it, too. She could see the guilt on his face.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Liz."

"It makes no difference." She got up. She wasn't going to have this discussion with him.

"Please stay."

She shook her head: "You're a good father. Our son adores you. That's why you're here. But you have no right to talk to me about us. You haven't had this right in a long time."

"Ok."

She sat back down. She didn't even want to admit to herself how much she was still hurting after all these years.

"Can I ask you about the present at least?"

"About the present?"

"Whether you've got someone?"

"A boyfriend, you mean?"

"Yeah."

She wanted to tell him that it was none of his business. But he had asked nicely. "No, I don't."

"Why not?"

Now that was really none of his business. "Why did you cheat on her?"

His face contorted as if she had punched him.

"Don't worry, I don't actually want an answer. Just proving my point."

He rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry, Liz, I can't do this today. I might deserve every bit of your scorn, but I'm hurting too much for this."

When he tried to shift position to stretch out his knee, she noticed for the first time that he was still sitting on the stairs.

"Here," she got up. "Take the rocking chair."

She hopped up on the porch railing.

He didn't even pretend not to want the chair. And he moved so slowly. How long had the pain been this clear on his face? Or did the pain over the second divorce mix with the pain from his maltreated body to stand out like this?

"How long do you have until you have to get back in the ring?"

He sighed when he sat down in the rocking chair. "Now that's something that makes no difference for me anymore. No matter how long, it is never enough time."

"Why do you go back?"

He shrugged: "There's nothing else I'm good at."

Even a decade ago that hadn't been true. "Oh Mark."

"You of all people know that the only thing that's reliable about me is that I'm not reliable. That's not a good start to get any job apart from the one that I have."

She raised her eyebrows: "Is that why you haven't missed a single appointed weekend with your son in the past five years?"

"That's different. It is the bare minimum criteria for being a father. And I don't even mean being a good father."

"And still. You're reliable where it concerns him. You don't miss your appointments. You don't miss your alimony payments. You don't miss his birthdays. You came here today, even though you probably had other things on your mind."

"Alright, so I'm good at alimony payments and showing up every few weeks or months. What does that help?"

"It helps us."

When all he answered was a dismissive snort, she couldn't help herself: "I'm not implying that you're a good person, Mark. I've had a decade to harbor my resentments. But there are things that you're doing right. So give yourself some credit for them."

He looked up at her: "You have to watch that."

"What?"

"You're saying things that almost make me believe you still like me."

"A well-guarded part of my heart. Under layers of hatred." And that wasn't even too far off from the truth.

"Any chance of rediscovering that part?"

"I thought you were a wrestler and not an archeologist."

"I'd be willing to give it a try."

She gave him a good long stare before asking: "What is it you want? Do you want forgiveness? Do you want a rebound after your wife left you? Why are you doing this?"

"I forgot that you were this blunt."

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Mark."

"I'm not trying to. Honestly, Liz. But – we've loved each other once. And I haven't seen you in years. Is it so bad of me that I – that I want…" But he broke off.

"And that's just it. That's the emotional capacity you have before you run."

Her son chose this moment to show up. He bit his lip. He had obviously overheard at least the last part of the conversation. "I wanted to say good night."

"Need someone to tug you in?"

"No!"

"Didn't think you did. Your Dad would still come and amuse you with a story about his glorious basketball past if you asked him."

He shook his head: "No, it's ok."

"Can I hug you then at least?"

He let himself be hugged but his body stayed tense. He was unhappy.

"Sleep tight, honey."

He nodded. "Night, Mom. Night, Dad."

She watched him go with a worry. Her bubbly child was rarely this quiet. Their argument, harmless as it was in terms of what they'd had before had disturbed his equilibrium. "Let's try not to fight in front of him, ok?"

"Well, since apparently I have the emotional capacity of a vegetable, I can't promise anything."

She closed her eyes for a second and let the anger wash over her. They'd had this fight before. Before they had ever divorced, actually. But that was then, this was now. "I'm sorry. I was out of line. It isn't my place to judge you."

"Could you make that sound any more arrogant?"

"Probably." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "But I won't. Because I've got layers of hatred, but your son does not. And I'd like to keep it that way."

"You never told him." It was a statement, not a question.

"Why we divorced? No. You can tell him yourself when he's grown-up and asks you."

"Why didn't you?" Resentment had been replaced with puzzlement.

"It's hard enough for him. Being the only man in the house. At least this way he has a Dad to look up to. It's all I can do for him."

"You're a better person than me."

"Because I'm not vindictive? Because I didn't go ahead and poison your son against you?" Her mouth curved into an ironic smile: "It's the bare minimum criteria for being a good Mom."

"You are. A good mom."

"Thank you." And she meant that.

Saying good night was as awkward as saying hello had been. Their bodies had memories of their own. Memories that got activated without any prompting from their brains.

Instead of complying with what her body thought was a good idea, she stuffed her hands deep into her pockets again. At least this way she couldn't do something stupid like hugging him.

They were in front of the guest-room.

"Well, that's your stop. I trust that David showed you were everything is? Bathroom, towels?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Ok then. Well, good night, Mark."

He looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

"Good night, Liz", he answered softly.

When she had closed the bed-room door behind her, she let out a deep breath.

12 years. 12 fucking years she had avoided this. She had talked to him, of course. To settle weekends and vacations. To give her son the best chance she could at having a father. But it had been years since she'd last seen Mark in person. And then it had been a short and impersonal meeting in a parking lot after a weekend he'd spend with his son.

David had been her main source of information. She had heard from him when Mark got engaged again. She had bought him a suit for his father's wedding. She had even done her best not to cry on the day of the wedding, even though she was alone at home and no one would know. She had looked at the pictures her son had taken of the newly-weds. She had looked at the happy gleam in the bride's eyes and had still somehow managed to wrap her feelings into a hard little ball inside herself and not let them show.

Then her son had brought home the news that the new wife was pregnant. And soon enough Mark had a daughter. And then another one. Lovely kids, by the pictures she'd seen. But for David, things had gotten more difficult. He was growing up fast and the girls took away from the little time he got to spend with his Dad. So Mark had started taking him on tour instead.

Liz hadn't been happy about that. She didn't think that the show was the right environment for a kid. But Mark had promised to take good care of his son and not let him see or do stuff that was unhealthy. So she had agreed. And secretly, she was glad that the stream of information she got now was about wrestlers and wrestling moves and new cities instead of blonde wife and blonde daughters.

12 long years she'd managed to avoid Mark. 12 long years they'd not slept under the same roof even once. 12 long years she'd cursed him in every lonely night. 12 long years she'd longed for him in every lonely night.

And there it was, the heart of her problem. 12 long years she knew that she had had to leave him when she did. But 12 long years she'd never quite been able to stop loving him.

Every phone call, every picture stabbed her heart. Every proof that he was re-building his life without her killed her a little inside. But she'd kept herself together. Because her son needed her more than she needed Mark.

But now, without bad will, her son had backstabbed her. Proud as he was to be on the team as one of the youngest players, he had invited Mark to the game before ever talking to her. Only after Mark had accepted had he told her.

She sighed. She was aware that she had gotten played. That her son had chosen the one way that had a chance of succeeding. It didn't change a thing. She couldn't break his heart and tell him no.

But she had wondered. Why Mark had said yes. Why he would come and stay with them. Why his wife didn't veto that. Well, now she knew that part at least.

She just had to keep telling herself that trying to change the past didn't do any good. She'd loved Mark more than anyone ever before. But she loved David even more than that. And so far, living with this in mind had proven to be a successful strategy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Friday**

The next morning, Mark came down only after David had gone to school.

She had forbidden David to wake him up. "You're going to see him at the game."

"But…"

"No. He's tired. He's hurting. Let him sleep. You have a whole weekend."

Grumblingly, he had given in and stomped off to school.

It didn't seem that the night's rest had decreased Mark's pain. He moved stiffly from step to step until he had managed the stairs.

"Pancakes?" she asked him.

"That would be nice."

"And some water for the pain meds?"

He sighed. "I'm trying not to take too many."

"How's that working out for you?"

He grimaced: "You can see it. I'll take some more tonight, before we go to the game."

"Just coffee then. Do you still take it with cream and two pieces of sugar?"

He looked up at her in surprise: "You remember that?"

"Of course."

She brought him a big plate with pancakes and a bottle of syrup.

"You're not eating?"

"I had breakfast with David. I am up for another cup of coffee, though."

She put his cup in front of him and took her own over to her chair.

"Do you have to work today?"

She shrugged: "I have no pressing deadlines." The advantage of being a freelance writer. You could choose when to work, as long as you didn't choose not to work at all.

"So", he asked a little hesitantly, "you'd consider spending the day with me?"

"Well, you're enjoying the famous hospitality of the South. We frown on treating our guests rudely."

"We frown on divorce, too", he replied dryly.

"Not as much as we frown on remarriage."

He stuffed another piece of pancake into his mouth while he was thinking up an answer. Finally, he gave up: "Nah, I have no retort. You win."

"Too easy."

"Give me time, I can learn the game again."

Their silly old game of who could rile the other more. The sensation of loss and pain was so immediate and so physical that she cringed. How many goddamn years did it take?

"So, how is it with your wife, any chances of reconciliation?" she asked quickly to get herself away from the edge.

"I thought we had a deal not to talk about personal issues?"

"Suit yourself."

But he laid down his fork and looked at her: "Do you want the truth? Even though it isn't pretty?"

She shrugged: "What can you say that is worse than what we have already said to each other?"

"I'm past caring. That is the truth. If it wasn't for the girls… But she isn't you. She'll make me fight every step of the way. She's already pulled the girls out of my reach."

Liz chuckled sarcastically: "So I'm the lucky divorce now?"

"No. I don't feel lucky divorcing you. And in case you've forgotten, it was you who wanted the divorce, not me."

Her hackles were immediately raised. "In case you've forgotten, you were the one who was cheating."

"No, I haven't forgotten. And believe me I'm not proud of it. But it was you who didn't give me a chance to make it right."

"Because there was nothing to make right! You were a selfish bastard and I had only the options to either let you go or let you drag your son and me down with you. And I wasn't going to let that happen."

"I wasn't going to let any harm come to any of you."

"Oh please, Mark. It's long enough ago that we can talk straight now."

"You yourself have told me that I'm a good father."

"Yes, you are. You are now. Probably because the divorce was the wake-up call you needed. The first time things didn't go your way. The first time, you couldn't charm your way out."

"I really don't know whether you're just harsh or whether you're bitter."

"What difference does it make? You were not a good father then. I was at home with our son while you were banging your infatuation of the week. And doing who knows what other shit. And when you were home, you were…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath: "No. I don't want to do this. I don't want to rehash this argument. Maybe we can agree on that we both grew into our roles as parents over the years. I think that's the best we're going to get."

"Banging my infatuation of the week? That's stiff, Liz. That's stiff."

She sighed: "Look, Mark, I'm sorry. I've said so many bad things to you in my mind over the years that they all want to come out now. I understand that it's not my place anymore. You're nothing to me and I'm nothing to you. We have a son together and that's it."

But of course that was a lie. He wasn't nothing to her and never would be. She turned away from him, so that he wouldn't see her emotions on her face.

"Would you go for a walk with me?" he said abruptly.

She was thankful for the change of topic. "Can you even go for a walk?"

"As long as we go slow. But nothing's worse for the knees than not moving at all."

He helped her clean up the table. Something he'd never done while they were still married.

"Thank you."

He just nodded.

She watched him out of the corner of her eyes while they put on their shoes. He'd changed in other ways, too. He was more reserved, less temperamental. She hadn't ever known him not to be in for a fight, whether she'd apologized or not. But now he seemed content to leave the issue alone. She bit her lip. She had to be more careful about what she was saying. For her own sake as well as for her son's. This was likely going to be the only experience he was going to have with having his father live in the same house, even if it was just for a few days. She had to take care not to wreck it for him.

Outside, it was already nice and sunny. It usually was. But it wasn't too warm yet. She was glad she'd brought a light sweater. "There's a hiking trail, starts not far from here. Shortest way will take about 45 minutes, longest about three hours."

"Sounds good."

She had to match her steps to his. With his long legs, he had always been faster than her. Not anymore.

"Mark?"

"Hm?"

"The knee. Is it going to get better?"

He shrugged: "Depends on what you mean. Is it going to get better than it is right now? Yeah. But eventually, it'll need to be replaced."

"You be careful, Mark, ok? You're at a bad age for a wrestler."

"You scared that the alimony payments are going to stop if I bite it? Don't worry, David's going to inherit enough that you'll live comfortably for the rest of your life."

"Don't be a dick." But there was no conviction behind her words. If he was going to make her pay for what she'd said before, so be it.

"Ah, you had that part covered at selfish bastard already."

The tone in his voice made her look up. He looked at her with raised eyebrows. Suddenly it hit her and she laughed: "I got nothing. You win."

The raised eyebrows turned into small crinkles around his eyes: "Too easy."

"Well, it's still a tie. So don't think you've won yet."

"Ah, be assured that I won't make the mistake of underestimating you. I did that once and it didn't turn out well for me."

"Is that why you got yourself a blonde next?" She caught herself the next second: "Ah darn, are we still playing?" It was a slippery slope from their old game to full-out nastiness.

"That was a good one. So I think I'll let it count. But only if you answer me a question in return."

"Can I hear the question first?"

"Always guarded, never giving an inch more than necessary."

"Alright," she gave in. "What is the question? I'll answer it."

"Why didn't you ever remarry? You're attractive. You're kind. You have a big heart. Yes, you have a son, but he's a great kid. He wouldn't be a hurdle. I've asked him about it every so often, but either you're good at keeping your love life from him or you haven't got one."

Oh great. Of course he poked right at the places where it hurt the most. She was tempted to give a sarcastic answer, but even that was giving away too much. So she just shrugged: "It's not like I didn't go out every so often. A few guys even made it to second or third date. But there was just never enough there." Or rather, there had always been too much of someone else still in her heart but she wasn't going to admit that. "I lead a good life, Mark. I have my son and my writing. I don't need a guy just to have a guy."

"There's wisdom in that that I should probably heed."

"Did she make you happy?" she asked him and for once there was no jealousy involved.

"For a time", he nodded.

"Well, that's all you can ask really, isn't it? A time?" She smiled at him.

"Did I make you happy?"

The question came out of the blue. But her defenses weren't up. "Yeah. Yeah, you made me very happy. For a time."

"That's better than nothing I guess."

She fidgeted a little but her true feelings still had the upper hand. "I'm sorry I said that you are nothing to me. It wasn't true. You mean a lot." She managed a weak smile: "And it has nothing to do with the alimony."

They had stopped but now Liz started walking again. She couldn't cope with the strange expression in his eyes.

"How long since you knew that it wouldn't work out?" she asked when the silence stretched.

"A while. A few years. It wasn't the dramatic breakup you and I had. We tried to make it work. For the girls, you know. It just didn't."

"So, did you cheat on her?" She tried to keep her voice neutral.

He sighed. "Yeah."

"Oh Mark."

"It didn't matter. At the point that happened, the marriage was a hopeless case already."

"Is that what you thought of our marriage, too?"

He stopped and turned to her: "Liz, I didn't think our marriage was a hopeless case even after I had gotten the papers."

When she wanted to walk on, he put his hand on her arm: "Liz."

She looked at the place where his fingers touched her sweater. She was glad and disappointed at the same time about the layer of fabric between them. They hadn't touched each other, not even to shake hands, for so many years. She shook herself lose. "I can't hear this, Mark. I just can't."

She walked on and after a moment he followed.

A sudden suspicion rattled her: "Did he know?"

"What?"

"David. Did he know your marriage was breaking up?"

Mark nodded: "Yes, I told him."

"Son of a…" but of course she didn't finish this particular curse. Her son was sneakier than she'd imagined.

"I take it he didn't tell you."

"He sure didn't." 12 years and he'd never once asked her to invite Mark. Right up until the point where he knew Mark was alone after a failed marriage. She shook her head. Varsity team or no varsity team, the timing was more than suspicious. She had gotten played alright. "Well, it makes no difference. You're here now."

"I'm not sure I can follow."

She sighed. Did she really want to explain this to him? But the last half hour had been nice. If they could keep this level of communication up, the weekend was going to go a lot better than she had expected. "I just find it interesting that for 12 years he accepts it without a question that you and I do not see each other, ever. And then suddenly he tricks me into inviting you right when you're getting divorced. I can't prove it, but I suspect ulterior motives."

"You think he's trying to get us back together?"

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"What would make him think that was a good idea?"

"Honestly, I don't know." But then, her son was smart. She didn't talk about her feelings for Mark. But her son was now at an age where he started to look at girls differently than he had. It might have made him question what Mark had questioned. Why she had never bothered to get serious about dating again. And even if he hadn't come to the right conclusion, it was enough doubt to work with. "Well, on the plus side, our, uhh, shouting matches obviously didn't do any lasting damage."

Mark hadn't been violent as such but for a while there, things ran close. Admittedly, she had provoked the piss out of him. She'd been too hurt, too devastated to think clearly. She had even dared him to punch her. 'Come on, hit me! You know you want to! Hit me just once and I can be rid of you for good.' Yeah, it had not been her brightest moment.

Mark chuckled: "There's never been anyone else who could rile me up quite as much as you could."

"Not sure that that is the achievement I want to be remembered for."

He shrugged: "You could do worse. You could be me."

"Remembered for finding comfort in a new girl's arms every time things get tough?"

"Infatuation of the week…" He shook his head.

She held her hands up in a gesture of defeat: "I'm not going to get out of this one, so I concede. Your win."

"That shouldn't even count. But I'll take it anyway. 2 to 1", he nodded contentedly.

"No need to get smug about it. I'm going to catch up, you'll see."

"Ah, you'll try."

They were both laughing and suddenly her hand was in his. The shock traveled up all the way through her spine. Her laughter froze.

He noticed it in the same instant. Immediately he let go. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that." Confused, he broke off.

"It's alright." She put her hands in her pockets. "Let's just walk on." But she could still feel his skin on hers.

For a while they walked in silence. It was getting warmer out. And Mark seemed to limp a little less.

"If we turn right here, we'll eventually end up back at the house."

"Your call." He nodded.

She turned right. But she still didn't know anything to say. His inadvertent little gesture had served to show her how much distance there actually was between them. She wasn't sure it could be bridged.

"Can I invite you out for lunch?" he asked after they were back at the house.

"Mark, I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea."

"I can take it out of the alimony payment for this month if that makes you feel better."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Of course only after I add the rent for the guestroom."

"You're awfully smug sometimes."

He shrugged: "I've been called worse. By you, actually."

"Oh, no, that one I'm not going to let you just win. You have called me quite a few names, too. Names that I won't even repeat because it'll upset me."

"Well, as a penance, you should really take the opportunity to cheat me out of a few of my riches and go out to lunch with me."

She groaned. She was helpless against this. "Now that you word it this way…"

"Done deal, then."

They went back inside to retrieve their stuff.

When she went to the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Something weird was happening. The little crinkles around her eyes that indicated she was in a good mood were a lot more pronounced than usually. Actually, her whole face seemed to be on a mission to look happy. She was pretty sure that that was not something that was supposed to happen when you spent a day with your ex-husband who you despised. But then, Mark had always had weird effects on her.

"Ready?" he asked her when she came back downstairs.

"As ready as I'm going to get." But she smiled.

He unlocked his car. But when she wanted to go around to the passenger side, he stopped her: "Uh-uh. Southern, remember?"

He came over and opened the door for her.

Her first instinct was not to accept even this small gesture from him. "The perfect limping Southern Gentleman…"

"Everything for a Southern Lady."

She climbed in the car. "You lost that one by not adhering to the rules. You need a snide remark."

He climbed into the driver's seat. "Limping is not a snide remark, either, honey. It is a statement of the facts."

She tested that sentence for possibilities: "Ok, help me out. Ironic or not?"

He reversed out of the driveway. "What's ironic or not?"

"You called me honey!"

"Oh, honest mistake. Wasn't thinking."

But she saw the amusement crinkling his eyes.

"Oh, what did I do to deserve this?"

"I take it that that is a rhetorical question?"

"Yes! Please don't answer!"

He chuckled. "So, where are we going?"

"What would you like?"

"Something quiet. Preferably not frequented by wrestling fans."

"You could find yourself an infatuation of the week."

"I'm past that stage, honey." This time he put emphasis on the word and she knew he was teasing.

"Do you remember Old Jack's?"

"You don't want to be seen with me, huh?"

She laughed: "Don't worry, Old Jack is dead. It's got new owners. They have customers now and everything."

"Alright then, worth a try."

She had come to like Old Jack's. Sometimes she took her notebook and sat at one of the window tables, observing the people on the street through the perpetually dusty glass while sipping on a milkshake all afternoon.

But she remembered that Mark had never been comfortable with tables near the window, so today she started out towards the rear.

Stubbornly, he stopped her again.

"Oh Mark, I come here often. You know that the rule about the guy going first comes from potentially hostile territory, right? This territory is not hostile."

But he just shook his head.

"You're stubborn as a mule." But she gave in.

She knew he had practical considerations about this, too. He was much more used than her to finding a table where he wouldn't be bothered.

Once he had found a place he was satisfied with, he held out a chair for her.

"Thank you", she said gracefully enough.

"You're welcome."

The waitress didn't give them more than perfunctory attention when they ordered.

"So, you wanted to go out, we are out. You proved that you still know the rules of the South. What now?"

"Now we're going to pretend we're friends who haven't seen each other in a while and want to catch up."

"Well, I have a son who's growing up really fast. He's a freshman in high-school already."

"Really? What a coincidence! My son, too."

"Really? Wow." She laughed. The situation was ridiculous but somehow that didn't matter. "You know, my son doesn't like it when I talk about him behind his back, but I think he likes a girl."

"He does?" Mark looked honestly surprised.

"I can show her to you tonight. She'll be at the game. They're not going with each other officially, far as I know at least. They call her Shells. Her real name's Michelle, I think."

"Is he really that old already?"

"It's been 12 years, Mark."

"I know. It's just… Talking to you, it feels like you hurled your last insult at me only yesterday."

"Ouch." She knew what he was trying to say, though. They had fallen back into their patterns of communication as if no time had passed at all. "Should it frighten us that we have changed so little?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I for my part am glad. I didn't know what to expect when I came down here."

"Me, either. But yes, at least we know now that we can spend half a day together without biting each other's heads off."

"Liz, I…"

"You should try", she interrupted him before he could say whatever sentimental thing it was he had been going to say. "You should try to save your marriage. You don't want to sit at a table with her in 12 years' time and have the same conversation."

He shut his mouth and didn't answer.

"It's none of my business, I know. We have a deal about personal issues. But it just seems such a waste. Such a waste of years…"

"You're right", he replied softly.

The pain was immediate and acute, but she smiled through it.

In the afternoon, she had to answer a few questions by her editor and Mark lay down for a while. It took her an eternity to answer the letters. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the visitor in her guestroom.

She tried to conjure up the feelings she had had when she found him cheating. She had had hints and notions for a while then. And finally she had resorted to having a friend spy on him. The news had been devastating. But she gave him the benefit of the doubt. So she'd organized a babysitter and taken a plane to the other coast.

Yeah. She had known what to expect. But seeing it. Seeing him. Seeing… It had shattered her heart.

So why the hell did she still long for him even now? Why could she not stop wanting him?

She wrote another couple of lines to her editor and deleted them again. Not even her business emails made sense today.

She wondered what had happened between him and his second wife. Irreconcilable differences, that could mean a thousand things. He had told Liz without hesitation that he'd cheated on his current wife, too. Did that mean he hadn't changed? Or did the fact alone that he told her mean that he was more trustworthy than the man she'd known when she was young?

She sighed. One weekend. She could make it through one weekend. She'd have the rest of her life to sort her feelings out after.

Decidedly, she pushed all thoughts about him to the side and finally answered her editor's letters.

When she was done, she went looking for him. The door to the guestroom was open. He wasn't in. He wasn't downstairs, either. Finally, she found him on the porch.

"I could get used to this. A porch and a rocking chair. It seems like a good life."

"It's a cliché", she pointed out.

"Maybe. You should get a dog."

"We had one. When David was younger. Dusty."

"Oh, that's true, I remember that he told me about a doggie."

"Doggie? She was 80 pounds! But I'm guessing she was still a doggie. I felt safer with her in the house. Now that David is nearing the 6' mark, I think he doesn't need to be protected quite as much anymore."

She saw the expression of guilt on Mark's face. "Don't. Even if things had been different, you'd have been on the road. You wouldn't have been here to protect us."

"I guess you're right."

"We gotta go in a little while. If you want the pain meds to kick in before we go, you should take them now." She laid her hand on his shoulder for a moment before turning around and going back inside to find her team jersey.

By the time they made it to the school, she was nervous. "Remember how I laughed at the soccer moms? I've turned right into one of them. I bet he's a lot less nervous than I am right now."

Mark laughed: "He's a good player, don't worry."

"I know that he's good! That isn't even a question! It's just that he was so excited. I want him to do well."

"I know. Why don't you show me around the school to distract yourself?"

They passed security. Everything had been upgraded in light of the latest school shootings.

"I don't even know the school that well! There hasn't even been a PTA meeting yet."

"It's going to be alright, Liz."

"Easy for you to say."

He laughed: "I've been the one who had his first game on the varsity team in freshman year, remember? It wasn't a good game. I was tall, yes, but everyone else was faster and more skilled. I still got my college scholarship in the end."

She paced a few steps up and down the hall. "Oh God, and the other parents are going to be there."

"What's the problem with that?"

"My son is always the youngest. Middle-school was no different. So everyone I know here, they have all done this for at least a year."

"It's going to be ok, Liz. It really is."

She almost bumped into him when she paced back. She stopped abruptly, but he just laughed. Then he drew her into a hug. "It's going to be ok, Liz. I promise."

She stiffened but he didn't let go. "It's going to be fine, you'll see."

She didn't want it. She fought against it. But her body recognized his. Recognized his shape, his warmth, his smell. And it relaxed into the familiar form.

"Mom? Dad?"

He held onto her for a moment longer before letting go with a sigh. "Your Mom is mighty excited for you. She was going to faint. Are you ok now, Liz?"

She nodded quickly and composed her features before turning around to her son. He wasn't buying it, she could see. "David, honey, aren't you supposed to be with your team?" She had trouble keeping her voice steady.

"Just wanted to tell you that I reserved seats for you in the front row."

"Thank you, David, that is very thoughtful of you." Mark had no obvious trouble with his voice.

"Alright then, I'll leave you two alone." He shot them an unreadable glance and turned on his heels.

Suddenly unable to keep her weight up, she let herself sink against the wall. She'd been confused enough without letting her guard down and relaxing into his embrace. And it didn't help that they'd been caught.

"Are you ok, Liz?"

She shook her head without looking at him.

"Do you want me to go?"

"No!" That came out more forceful than she had wanted it to.

"Alright", he nodded. "In that case, let's find our seats and I'll get you something to drink. Come on."

He offered her his hand.

When she hesitated, he added: "I honestly don't bite, Liz. Come on."

Before she risked another breakdown, it was easier to just do what he said. Her hand felt small in his. He held her tight, but not too tight. She could feel every of his movements through their fingers. She could even feel his limp, less pronounced now after the pain pills, but still there.

"We have a funny son."

She hadn't even noticed that they were already there. Mark was picking up a sheet of paper that had been lying over two chairs. It said 'Mr. & Mrs. Calaway'. He crumbled it up.

"Come on, sit down, I'll go get you some water."

She let herself sink into the seat. The last time she'd been Mrs. Calaway had been in a lawyer's office. She had signed with the name one last time and then her maiden name had been her identity again.

"Liz! How wonderful to see you! Is your son playing tonight?"

"Renée! Hi!" But when the other woman started to sit down, Liz shook her head: "That seat is taken, actually."

"Oh, is it? What a pity. Derek has been playing every game this season, and Philip is traveling so much, he never has time anymore to come with me. It is so boring really, these high-school games!" A tap on the shoulder caused her to turn around.

"Excuse me. I believe this is my seat."

"Oh." It was the first time that Liz had seen Renée speechless.

"Here's your water, Liz."

"Thank you." She took it from him.

Renée had recovered enough to introduce herself: "Renée Baker, my son Derek is on the varsity team."

He shook her hand: "Mark Calaway, my son's on the team, too."

"You're David's father!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I never knew…" She fumbled at her cleavage.

Liz immediately felt like hissing at her. "Renée? Would you excuse us please?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, of course." But she looked back several times while she went to find herself a different seat.

"Who the hell was that?" Mark let himself sink into the chair next to hers with a sigh of relief.

"One of the soccer moms."

"Does she have a blog?"

"Not that I know of."

"Good. She looks like the type who would take a few pictures and post them tomorrow."

She hadn't thought about that. "Want different seats? We don't have to sit next to each other, either."

"It's fine." When she looked unconvinced, he added: "Liz, if I was afraid to be seen with you, I wouldn't have come here in the first place."

That made sense to her. She nodded and turned her attention back to other things. "I hope it all goes well with the game." And she hoped her son didn't think the embrace meant anything. Suddenly a nervous laugh bubbled out of her. It was funny really, she had asked Mark not to fight with her in front of her son and he hadn't. But that hadn't made things less complicated.

Suddenly there was music and the cheerleaders made their way in. They gave their pre-game performance.

"So, the girl, Shells, is she one of them?"

"Oh, right. I wanted to show her to you." She turned around to scan the crowd. "Ah, there!" She didn't want to point, knowing that her son would be embarrassed if the girl noticed them. "You gotta look to the upper third and then the left. There's a group of four girls. She's the second one from the right."

He bent down close so that he could follow the direction of her gaze. He was close enough, actually, that she could feel his breath. She swallowed hard. It was in no way easier to handle him when they were not arguing.

"Brownish hair, ponytail and what's that she's holding?"

Liz stretched to see over the crowd, but she'd seen Shells up close so a glance of the object was enough for her: "I believe it's her Kindle. She's rarely seen without it."

"She brings a book to the game?"

"Hey, technology and you know what it is." She turned around to face him and to bring more distance between them again. "The important part is that she came to the game."

"She brings a book to the game", Mark shook his head.

Liz shrugged. She had a different opinion about this than Mark. To her it seemed that since her son was meeting with Shells 'to study', whatever else they might be doing, his grades were actually better. She didn't want to stifle his enthusiasm for sports, but an outside influence that showed him that there were other things in the world wasn't the worst that could happen.

"She's a good kid", was the only thing she said to Mark about all of this. "I like her."

"I'll take your word for it. A book…"

This time he said it with such emphasis that she raised her eyebrows: "If this is commentary on my enthusiasm for wrestling, you're dead wrong. You can ask your son about it."

"He says you're still leaving the room when one of my matches comes on. That's a little worse than a book, don't you think?"

"Words spoken by someone who truly has no idea."

"No idea about what?"

But now the cheerleaders were done and the teams came in. The crowd cheered and clapped and Liz did the same. She searched for her son among the tall youth. When she found him, she smiled. He looked like he belonged. That was a good start.

"No idea about what?"

David scanned the crowd. He gave them a short wave when he saw them and she waved back. Then he looked up and behind them and smiled. Liz turned around. Shells was beaming, her book forgotten.

"No idea about what?"

With a sigh she turned back to Mark: "You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"Nope. It's the only chance at education that I have at my age. To bother people till they explain the stuff to me that I have no idea about."

She couldn't tell whether he was pissed or whether he was playing. She searched for a way of saying this that wouldn't give too much away. But there really wasn't one if she wanted to tell him the truth. And in the end, what harm could it do, apart from to her pride? "I worry, Mark. I worry about you. He", she nodded towards their son, "sees the cool moves. I see what you're doing to your body. That's why I can't watch you wrestle. I never could."

"You never told me. I always just assumed…"

"…that I don't like wrestling? No, that's not it. I just don't like seeing you get hurt. Especially, if I have to sit still and can't do anything about it." She turned her head back to where the game had now started. "I'm thankful every day that your son chose your first passion, believe me."

"Liz, I…"

"It's alright, Mark. Just take this at face-value. Analyzing it helps no one."

He nodded and she turned her attention back to the court. The confession that she still cared was too close for comfort. It had taken years for her to piece herself back together and find her identity as a single mom. He was in the process of unraveling all this hard work in one weekend. And she had no idea what to do against it.

The game started out slow but it soon turned into a heated battle. For a while, it looked as if the other team was miles better, but the home team fought back and point by point they crawled their way back up to a tie.

It didn't need long for Mark to be completely engrossed in the game. He cheered and groaned and shouted with the other dads as if he was doing this every week. And for this one short moment, Liz allowed herself the illusion.

She settled into her chair and for once, she wasn't Mom and Dad in one person, for once she was just Mom. Mom who got shouted at: "Did you see that? Did you see that? That was clearly a foul!" and who nodded and frankly hadn't seen it. Mom who got shouted at: "Did you see that? Did you see that? That's our son!" and this time she had seen it and she beamed with her own pride and with his.

She marveled at how easy it was. How right it felt. How much better it was than sitting beside Renée and listening to her stories all night. And suddenly she was grateful. Deeply grateful to her son that he had tricked her into this. Whatever else, she'd have this memory. She'd know that for one night they had been a family.

In the end, they won by three points. The game could hardly have run closer but they celebrated as if they had kicked the shit out of the other team. The crowd was standing and the cheers didn't want to end.

When the teams finally went back to the locker rooms, the parents swarmed the coach and his assistant, as was usual after these games.

"I'll be right back", and to her surprise, Mark went down with the others and shook the coach's hand and talked shop with him for a few minutes. While she obviously knew that he took an interest in his son's athletic abilities, she hadn't thought he'd actually take an interest in the surrounding politics and league. But next thing she knew, Mark got his wallet out and gave the coach his card, while the coach scribbled his phone number down on a piece of paper.

"What was that all about?" she asked him when he came back to her.

"Nothing", he scratched his neck. "It's just, he's got some interesting strategies. And the team isn't bad. I have a few ideas what might work for them. So I thought I might find the time to talk it over with the coach at some point."

"You what?"

He looked embarrassed now: "Well, the coach didn't seem to mind. You think David's going to mind? I should have asked him first, shouldn't I?"

She rubbed her forehead: "You're the parent, Mark. You can talk to his coach at any time. It's just that –" But she broke off, when she saw David coming over to them. "Hey, good game! I'm so proud of you!" She hugged him.

"Thanks, Mom." But he really wasn't interested in her. "Did you see that shot that I made in the end, Dad? It was just like you showed me yesterday!"

"I did indeed! You played a good game." He laid one arm around his son's shoulder and offered her his other hand.

This time, she took it without hesitation. One night. For one night, she was ok with the illusion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Saturday**

The next morning, she had an emotional hangover. Mark and David had talked basketball and strategies until deep into the night. She had listened to them and felt so happy and peaceful as she hadn't in years. It was intoxicating, this feeling.

And like everything that was intoxicating, you paid the bill in the morning. She sighed. She could not become addicted to this. She had gone through the withdrawal once and that was enough.

Consistently, she asked over breakfast: "So, what have the two of you planned for today?"

"If I remember correctly the words 'Six Flags' happened to come up kinda often before this trip."

"Oh yes, Six Flags! Mom, can we go?"

"If your Dad takes you, I don't see why not."

Mark looked up at her in surprise: "You're not coming?"

She shook her head: "No, this is your weekend, not mine. So you two go spend time together."

"But Mom!"

"Remember how we talked about what the deal was with a shared custody agreement? There are weekends that belong to your Dad. So that the two of you have time for just each other."

"But you're both here! You have to come, Mom!"

"I don't mind, Liz. Really. Just come with us."

"Mom, puuuhlease!"

She looked from one to the other. David made puppy eyes at her and Mark couldn't quite keep the amusement about his son's persuasion techniques out of his eyes. She couldn't help but start laughing. "You're horrible, the two of you. I had plans of getting some work done today."

"Yes!" Her son held his hand out to his Dad for a High Five. "She's coming!"

Liz groaned and shook her head.

Mark winked at her. Then he asked his son: "So, what about your girl? Do you want to take her, too? She's invited."

David immediately turned beet-red.

"Shells is the name I believe?"

"Mom!" he turned accusingly towards her.

"Sorry, honey. Shouldn't have mentioned her, huh?"

"Also, she's not my girl! We're just friends."

Mark chuckled: "Well, then go call just-friends-Shells and ask her whether she wants to go with us."

He squirmed: "But what if she says no?"

"You'll have to call her to find out."

It had been a while since she'd seen her son this flustered. But after deliberating it in his mind for a moment, he said: "I'll be right back." He took his cell out of his pocket and made his way outside where they couldn't overhear the conversation.

When he was gone, she turned back to Mark: "Is that really ok for you? That a whole circus traipses along on your weekend with him?"

He smiled: "It's true, I don't get to spend much time with him. But I want to see him happy in the time I have. And he's obviously happy to see us getting along. Also, I don't know how it is for you, but for me it is really easy this weekend to fulfill his wish."

"Mom? Shells asks when we're going to pick her up", her son shouted from the porch.

"Tell her we'll be there in 45 minutes."

"My Mom says 45 minutes…" and he was outside and out of earshot again.

"Thank you, Mark. I appreciate it." It was all she knew to say.

David came back. "Shells' parents want to meet you before we go."

"Alright. Formal parental introduction. Every relationship has one."

"Mom!"

She laughed: "Ok, not a formal introduction then. I'm not so sure formally introducing your Dad works that well anyway."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Mark, but you can look a bit frightening to people who don't know you."

"Not my fault, is it?"

She raised her eyebrows: "Which part? The way you look or that they don't know you?"

He let his head fall forward and held his hands up in defeat: "I concede. Your win. We're at a tie again."

"Concede?" David looked confused.

"Oh, honey," Liz didn't quite know how to explain this one: "It's a silly game your Dad and I have been playing ever since we've met each other."

"It's called: Who has the last word? She usually wins."

"Not true. We're at a tie, remember?"

"Yeah, cause we're just starting out. Wait a while and you're going to have the clear upper hand."

Her smile was so pained that his laughter stopped. They wouldn't have a while and he knew it, too. He acknowledged it with a nod of his head and a slightly raised hand, before changing the topic: "So, are we ready to go then?"

They all helped together to clear the table. She hadn't thought her son could clean away dishes and pack his stuff this fast. Apparently, the prospect of Shells coming with them speeded him up.

David directed Mark to Shells' house. The car hadn't even come to a full stop when he had already jumped out and was on his way to the house.

"Want to come?" Liz asked Mark.

"I thought introducing me formally was not a good idea?"

"Come on. Enjoy the full potential of parental interactions for a weekend." She got out of the car and he followed her a moment later.

The front door was already open. David had run inside but a woman was waiting for them. She had seen Shells' mother before, but never really had been introduced.

"Hi", she stretched out her hand. "I'm Liz."

"Hi. I'm Karen."

„And this is Mark, David's father."

She could see the hesitation in Karen's eyes. But Mark put on his best smile and stretched out his hand: "Hi. It's so nice to meet you. We've heard good things about your family."

"Have you now?" But the ice was broken and she shook his hand. "My husband's not home unfortunately. And I really just wanted to exchange phone numbers. In case of emergency."

"Sure." Liz searched for her cell. "When do you want your daughter back home?"

"As long as she calls ahead if it gets later than 8, there's no real curfew. She's a responsible girl. And I know your son is responsible, too."

Liz smiled: "As far as teenage standards go, anyway."

Karen laughed: "Of course."

Liz's phoned beeped to let her know that Karen's number had been successfully saved. With a satisfied nod, she put it away. "Where are the kids, anyway?"

"Looking at Michelle's science project, I think."

"What is she doing?"

"Something that involves crawling things. I'm not looking too closely."

They laughed.

"What about you, Mark? David told me you're not living close?"

"Sure ain't. But it was his first game with the varsity team yesterday. Wasn't going to miss it."

"Oh right, how was it?"

"It was a good game. And he played well." Mark's pride was visible.

"Good for him. It must be hard being a freshman on the team."

"He copes well. He's used to being the youngest and the tallest", said Liz.

"Well, I can see where he got that from."

Mark laughed: "He could have inherited worse things from me than that."

Karen smiled back at him: "Well, we all do our best to make them inherit only the good parts, don't we?"

Liz nodded: "We sure do."

"So, are you going to come by more often then? For the games?"

Mark shot a glance in Liz's direction: "I don't know yet. I'd like to."

"We'll see how it fits your schedule", Liz answered noncommittally.

The teenagers came back into the hallway.

"So icky!"

"You just have to get used to the legs."

"So icky! Brr." Her son shuddered while Shells laughed.

"Hello, Mrs. Halloran. Hello Mr. Calaway."

"Hi Shells. Ready to go?"

"Yes." She put her shoes on and grabbed a backpack that had been standing by the door. "Bye Mom!"

She hugged her mom and they were on their way.

"A nice lady", remarked Mark when they were back in the car.

The kids were showing each other videos on their cell phones and laughing softly among each other.

"She sure is."

"And I think they actually went to look at the science project."

Liz laughed: "They're only 14, Mark. That'll change soon enough."

As soon as they were inside Six Flags, the kids ran off.

"Don't run too far ahead!" she shouted after them.

"Don't worry, Mom!"

She shook her head: "I predict that you won't see much more than his back today."

Mark laughed: "That's ok. Honestly, I can't keep up with him, so it's much easier on me if we can set a gentler pace than they do."

She looked at him: "But you are walking better today than yesterday."

He nodded. "I told you, a few days and I'll be down to a less risky dosage of pain pills."

She shook her head but didn't comment on it. It might worry her, but it was still none of her business.

They followed the kids to a roller-coaster. Liz's vote to opt out and stay behind went unheard. And so she found herself sitting in one of the small carts with Mark. He was too tall for the thing, so his knees scraped the front and there was no way to sit without touching.

"I'm sorry but I fear this is the only way to do this." He laid his arm around her back to find a position that was somewhat comfortable for him.

The carts started their trip up a steep slope. She grabbed the rail faster. "Here we go. Ahhhh!"

Every downward fall she screamed, every upward stretch was a bit of a breather. Every curve pressed them into each other. That part was by far the most terrifying.

When she finally unsteadily climbed out of the cart after the ride, the kids were already waiting for them: "Let's do it again!"

"No. You go, I wait." This time she was decisive.

"I'll keep your Mom company. Run."

"Ok!" And David and Shells ran back to the line to wait for the next round.

They found themselves a bench to wait for them.

"I have a question."

"Ohoh."

"Just curiosity, really."

"Well, shoot."

"Why did you let him keep my name? I never thought about it until the girl called me Mr. Calaway. But of course she knows my name because it's his name, too. But for you, that must be inconvenient. Always having to explain that you have different last names."

"Uh, that's a decision that I made a long time ago. And I think you might not like the answer."

"Tell me anyway."

She shrugged: "It wasn't for sentimental reasons. I wasn't sure you'd come around. I knew he'd always have me. But I thought he might need a name to remember his father by."

He stared off towards the roller-coaster for a moment. "Fair enough, I guess."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I think for pretty much everything I said to you back then."

"I deserved it all."

"Still doesn't mean I should have said all those horrible things."

"There are a lot of things that get said in the heat of battle, that aren't necessarily true or even meant that way."

"Right", she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "You're doing this again right now." How could she have forgotten that?

"Yeah."

"I'm guessing it doesn't get easier the second time around."

"Liz?" He looked at her. "I don't want to talk about her with you. It hurts us both. And quite unnecessarily."

"Your call", she nodded.

They slowly made their way through the park. Some rides they checked out with the kids, some they let them do on their own. Gravity had not taken a hold of them the same way it had of the adults yet. They had a small lunch and bought some ice-cream afterwards.

The kids were running ahead again already.

"Look." Liz poked Mark and pointed to the two teenagers.

"What am I seeing?"

"Their hands?"

"Oh!" Even with the ice-cream cones, David and Shells were holding hands. "When did that happen?"

"Sometime during lunch I think." She smiled. "You chose a good weekend to come. First big game. First time officially holding hands with a girl. It's an important weekend for him."

Instead of replying he smuggled his hand into hers.

It was almost despair that pierced her heart. "Mark…"

"This weekend. Only this weekend. That's all I'm asking."

"No, Mark." She extracted her hand from his. "I told you. I'm not a rebound."

"I…"

"No!" she interrupted him harshly. "You're a charming man, Mark. And I've loved you all my life. I can see how it must seem that I'm easy game. But I'm not. I have one priority. And that is doing the best for my son. So I'd really appreciate it if you tried to do the same."

She turned away from him and walked faster to catch up with the kids.

She kept her distance from him after that. She tried not to let her emotions show and be fun and go on rides with them. But she opted out of everything that would have brought her into close confinement with Mark. She couldn't take it. It had been a mistake to let things go as far as she had.

He seemed to have gotten the message at least. He was friendly, but he concentrated on the kids. She was grateful for that small mercy. And after a little while she'd recovered enough to join in with their jokes and laughter.

They dropped Shells off before they went home. David insisted on accompanying her to the house. Bringing her home meant bringing her right to the doorstep. He was a Southerner for sure. Liz watched them out of the car window. They were holding hands again and laughing and blushing. The joy of their blossoming romance made her heart ache. She'd never feel this way again. Once a heart had been broken, this sweet innocence could not be brought back.

She could feel Mark's eyes on her but she refused to turn towards him. Maybe what had gone down between them wasn't completely his fault. Her mixed feelings would translate into mixed messages for him. But it still hurt. It was a long time ago, true, but she'd been his wife once. That he would degrade her to a weekend fling was painful. Not to mention that it jeopardized every bit of peace that they'd reached between them in the past few days.

She shook her head to stop the thoughts from filling her up to the point where they would spill out. She watched the kids again. Where his father would have gone in for the kiss, David didn't. Well, with his parents watching from the car, going for a hug was the safer option. But she hoped he might have taken it slow even if it wasn't for them. It was another thing where she thought and prayed that she had raised him right. Some things were worth the wait.

David wanted to go to bed soon after dinner, citing tiredness as his reason.

Liz knew better. "Don't keep her up too long, ok? You can always talk to her tomorrow. And everything that goes over your monthly flat on your cell, you'll have to pay out of your allowance."

For once, a bit of teenage petulance showed on his face. "I know, Mom."

She laughed. "Alright, then run on up and don't let her wait."

"Night!" And up the stairs he went.

As soon as he was out of sight, Liz's smile fell. The last two days had taken a lot out of her.

Then she became aware of Mark's eyes on her. She stood up and started cleaning the kitchen. It wasn't even necessary; she just wanted to get away from him.

He followed her, though. "Liz? Can we talk?"

"No", she answered without turning around.

"Liz, please?"

"No."

"I don't accept that. You can't do that. You can't say something like 'I've loved you all my life' and then leave me hanging."

"Look, Mark", she turned around after all and tried to keep her voice down while feeling like shouting, "I shouldn't have said that. So just forget that I did. Forget it, alright?"

"No", he grabbed her arm when she wanted to turn away from him again. "No, not this time. I've let you get away once. I'm not doing it again."

"You've let me get away?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. I wanted you back, Liz. Do you still not understand that? I wanted you back more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. It was you who walked away. Without hearing me. Without giving me a chance."

"You didn't see what I saw…"

"Yes, I did. I was there in that hotel room. I was right there. And yes, I know the pain that you felt. I know it because I still feel it to this day whenever I think of you and me and that moment." He let go of her and took a step back, obviously barely managing to keep his calm. "A rebound, Liz? You think you could ever be a rebound for me? Everyone else. Everyone else is a rebound because you don't want me."

She had tears in her eyes but she refused to listen to what he was saying.

"Liz, I understand how much I fucked up. I understand that you don't trust me. I understand it so well that I've spent the last decade thinking about myself that I'm not trustworthy. And acting like it more often than not. With one exception. Not where it concerned David. Never when it concerned him. I've done everything in my power to be worth his trust. I've done everything I can to make up for what I did to him. And to you."

She refused to raise her eyes to him, even when he waited for her reply.

"You want to know why my marriage didn't work? It didn't work because of you. When she left me the first time, my wife told me point-blank: 'Your heart is not in this. You want to love me, but you don't. You need to get this sorted out. And I can't be with you while you do.' She's said a lot of bullshit to me since and a lot of hurtful and ugly things, but that part she got right."

She heard him walking away a few paces, so she dared to glance up. He was standing in front of the window, staring out into the darkening world, before turning around to her again. She couldn't judge the emotions on his face.

"If you've indeed loved me all your life, Liz, then please, hear me. I know that it's 12 years too late. I expect nothing of you. If you ask me to go I will go and not come back. But Liz, please. For the love we've once shared, throw out what you think you know about me and listen to me. Just this once."

Her mouth was so dry and her throat so choked that she wasn't even sure she could get a complete sentence out. "I am listening, Mark."

Could she have been so wrong all these years? He had wanted her back, that part she knew was true. But he had been so brazen, so nonchalant about betraying her. And she had even warned him. When she first had her suspicions, she'd told him she'd leave him the instant she found out that he fucked around.

She had never considered that even with everything he might still love her as much as she loved him.

His voice was very quiet now, as if it came from far away: "I will never forget the look on your face. In that hotel room. All I've ever wanted from then on was to undo that. To undo that hurt. I needed years before I understood that I can't."

She was crying. She had longed to hear those words. Had longed for an apology that was sincere and without defenses. And now that she had it, she had no idea what do with it.

"And I'm sorry about today. I'm sorry that I went too far. It just felt so nice. To be close to you again. To have done something right. It's a memory that will sustain me for a while."

It was eerie to hear her own thoughts echoed like this. One weekend of family life. An illusion to sustain her in the years to come.

"Mark", she cleared her throat in the hope that it would make her voice steadier, "don't you see why I can't do that? Why I can't give you this weekend?" For the first time she tried to find his eyes again, but he was barely more than a shadow in the dusky room. "Don't you see that a weekend can never be enough? That it will just leave us more broken than we were."

For a long moment, he didn't answer. But when he did, his voice had an inflection that she hadn't heard before: "What about a life-time then? Would that be enough?"

His words took her breath away. She could barely hear her own voice when she answered, let alone believe what she was saying: "Yeah. That would be enough."

She needed to see his face, see his eyes. She wanted to see whether he knew what he was saying, whether he knew what this meant for her, whether she could see the real him, whether she could touch him, whether he was still her Mark. Her Mark, whom she had lost so many years ago. Her Mark, who had so long been thousands of miles away and yet had still never been further than her heart.

Hesitantly, she went a few steps towards him. He closed the same distance from the other side, until they were mere inches apart.

He searched her face, too, looking for a clue on how she wanted this to go. A clue what was too far and what was ok. If she only had an idea how she wanted this to go. All she knew was that her heart was suddenly beating faster and breathing had become harder.

She had to look up; he was so tall when standing close. It made her smile. She had never quite gotten used to anything other than his shape. You couldn't kiss someone if he wasn't taller than you. She noticed that her eyes had dropped to his mouth. She looked up again and knew that he had noticed it, too. Her heart-rate increased another few beats. A small, shy smile curved her mouth. Yes, he still saw her and she still saw him. She laid her hands on his chest. A small gesture, a step wider than the distance to the moon. She waited. Waited how he would take it. Waited where he wanted this to go. Waited for his permission to get closer, for his consent to let himself be seen, to let himself be touched not only by her fingers but also by her heart. He closed his arms around her back and drew her in. It was all the permission she needed. She leaned into him and stretched up on tiptoes while he bent down until their lips touched.

The sensation was familiar and new, exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. But mainly, it felt right. It felt like 12 years of wrongness were falling off as if they had never happened. She felt light, lighter than she remembered she ever had, now that the heavy burden of things gone wrong was disappearing. She couldn't hold on to herself. She slung her arms around his neck and invited him to deepen the kiss, which instantly lost its shy quality. He drew her closer until their bodies touched. She felt his heat through her clothes, felt his muscles moving smoothly beneath her fingers. His tongue begged entrance and she let him pass, opening herself to him, relaxing into him, melding as if they were indeed one flesh instead of two.

When they were panting hard and the kiss had reached an intensity that was almost painful to bear, he swooped her up in his arms as he had always done. A pang of anxiety struck her heart. She wasn't at all sure they were doing the right thing. But she didn't protest and he carried her up the stairs. Slower than he had when they were younger but with no less determination. "Your room or mine?"

"Mine." It was further away from David's.

He nodded and carried her in. Barely taking the time to close the door behind him, he laid her down on the bed and resumed the kiss where it had stopped. The anxiety diminished as fast as it had come as his lips on her skin drove out all thoughts.

She let her hands wander under his shirt. He slipped it over his head and tugged at hers. She held her arms up so that he could remove the shirt for her. Without pause, he closed the distance between them again. Her body, as usual having a will of its own, curved into his. Where she had softened and broadened over the years, he was still all muscles. Harder and tenser maybe, but he hadn't changed much. Her body remembered his.

It didn't need long before they reached the point where what they were doing was not enough anymore. His hand had already strayed to the button of her jeans and when he looked at her, desire was now undiluted in his eyes. But still, he held on for a moment: "Are you sure? Cause this is the last point at which we can stop."

"Don't stop. Oh God, please don't stop." Her whole body was aflame. It had been so many years since she'd felt this. How had she made it through all these years?

She helped him get rid of her jeans and then her underpants, then his jeans and his boxers. Every bit of clothing that fell gave her a little rush. And when their bodies finally came in full contact with each other, it was almost enough to push her over the edge all by itself.

"I have missed you so much", she whispered, voice throaty and breathing labored, all defenses down. "All those years, I have missed you so much." She was crying now, crying and smiling and feeling and for the first time in her life she understood the phrase loving with abandon. Because she abandoned everything, every defense, every resentment, everything that wasn't them right now, right here. There was only him and her. Nothing else. She opened her eyes and looked into his, deep pools of green that smiled at her and loved her as he took her. And she let herself be taken without reserve.

She noticed that she was coming only when she was in the middle of it and so she kept their eyes locked, invited him to share the moment with her while her body contracted around his. She could see the effect, see how her own abandon pushed him over the edge. His whole body shuddered and shook, and then suddenly he collapsed, no longer able to keep his weight up.

She got crushed under him, but she didn't care. Instead she slung her arms around him, keeping him in place where he had fallen. She was not ready to lose his touch yet. No, she corrected herself, she would never be ready to let go of his touch again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sunday**

But of course, there was always the next morning. Where she had thought the emotional hangover the day before had been bad, it paled in comparison when she found him sprawled next to her in her bed.

She felt the blood rising to her cheeks. It was accompanied by a sudden lurch in her stomach. Oh God, what had they done? What had she done? How could she have let this happen? She closed her eyes and could still feel him inside her. The sensation was fresh and new and different from before. When she remembered the utter abandon with which she had given herself to him, it made her blush all the harder.

She looked at his sleeping form. Without consciousness, his pain was etched less into his features. She was already aching to touch him again. To feel the silky hair on his chest, to trace his muscles and find out whether what they had shared had relaxed them or whether he was still tense. But both her desire and her love were so overwhelming that she didn't dare.

She contemplated just getting up quietly and showering before her son woke up and could find them here. It would be the easy way out. But then she thought about how she would feel if he'd done that and she'd found herself alone when waking up. No, that wasn't an option.

She sighed and lay back down to give herself and him a moment longer.

The early morning sun gleamed on his red hair that was slowly showing signs of gray. It was a beautiful sight and yet it made her sad. She had already missed the morning on which the first gray hair had shown, she wanted to be there on the day when the last red one turned gray. She wanted to see him sitting outside in the rocking chair on the porch when she came home from her grocery shopping. She wanted him to carve the bird on Thanksgiving when their son came home from college for the weekend. She wanted to grow old with him and spend every single day of her life with him.

But of course that wasn't possible. That had never been possible. Weekend visitations - that was what relationships looked like to him, whether it was his marriages or his custody agreement.

And yet.

A life-time. That was what he had said. That was how what had ended up here had started. Yes, a life-time would be enough. Barely enough, after all the time they had already lost. She wished she knew how that sentiment would hold up in the harsh light of day.

But even if it didn't, even if this was all that they got… She smiled at him and followed the curve of his mouth with her gaze. She didn't regret it. She didn't regret that he knew now. It was a relief not to pretend she felt nothing for him. It was a relief to be free of the pain she had nurtured all these years. If nothing else came out of this, if her life went on as it had before, he had helped her to resolve her feelings and to let go. The burden was not going to come back. She was grateful for that.

Softly, she shook his shoulder. "Mark? It's time to wake up."

He didn't move at first and then woke with a start.

She smiled. He'd always done that. "It's Sunday morning. We've done something that's most likely very stupid. That's why you are in this bed. And why you are naked."

Consciousness was slow in returning to his eyes. "Liz."

"Yes. If you expected someone else I'll have to disappoint."

"I wasn't." He shook his head to clear the sleep out of it. "I wasn't expecting anyone actually."

"Yeah, I guess the infatuation of the week usually leaves before you wake up…" But when she saw his expression, she stopped cold. "Alright, too early for games."

His frown didn't change so she held her hands up in a gesture of apology: "I didn't actually hit to hurt, Mark. I'm sorry."

He nodded but the glance he sent her was unreadable. It reminded her of her son when he tried to puzzle something out.

Speaking of her son… "I propose we get up and go shower before we get caught."

"You don't want him to know."

"No," she shook her head. "Not before we have figured this one out."

His statement in itself had been harmless but the look he shot her was not.

"Mark, please. It doesn't mean that I regret what happened. But we can't do this to him. We can't get his hopes up before we know what this means. For us and for him."

Finally, he nodded: "Your call." He sat up with a sigh. "I guess that means I need to get up and get going. Cause you can come out of your bedroom no problem, it's just me who can't."

She tried her hand at a joke: "Hey, remember when you were a teenager and sneaking around the house? You'll have the wonderful experience of how it is to be a parent and still sneak around."

The joke served its purpose: "I'm pretty darn sure my parents never sneaked around their own house. Unless they were very good at it. I have four older brothers, remember?"

She chuckled: "Ah, you just don't want to imagine why they would be sneaking."

"Well, they were married to each other their whole lives, so our current position is out." He sighed: "And why am I suddenly shy around you? I fear my boxers are all the way over there." He pointed to the floor on her side of the bed.

She laughed: "You're shy? Now that's news to me."

"Maybe you don't know me quite as well as you think."

She had gotten the feeling that that might indeed be the case: "Maybe I don't."

She bent down and threw him his boxers.

"Thanks." With boxers on, he went around the room to find the rest of his clothing. "Think I'll have to wear all of these or am I going to make it to the bathroom?"

She looked at the alarm clock. "Too early for him, you're going to make it. Not that it would make much of a difference, you coming out of my bedroom in yesterday's clothes."

When he had all his stuff together, he came back to her. He sat down on the bed.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm wondering whether I'm allowed to kiss you."

She didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry about that. Possibly both. She wanted to laugh with joy that he wanted to kiss her, and she wanted to cry with sadness that he had to ask. "I think that's firmly a yes."

He smiled what she thought looked a lot like a relieved smile before he bent forward to give her a soft, lasting kiss.

It was strange and wonderful and petrifying, sitting at the breakfast table together. David was keeping the conversation flowing, chatting about the haunted house, about the roller-coasters, about the rides Shells had loved more, about the ones that were his favorites. She nodded at the right places and asked the right questions, but she felt Mark's eyes on her and it was hard to concentrate.

She hadn't kept a secret from her son in forever. She wasn't sure she was going to be able to keep it up for long. It was fortunate that David was so wrapped up in his own teenage world and didn't notice the way Mark was looking at her or the way it made her blush.

She got catapulted out of her reverie when David's mood suddenly dropped all the way to crushed: "Man, it's Sunday already! I forgot that. It's Sunday and you're leaving today." He looked at his Dad: "But you only just got here!"

Liz laid a hand on her son's arm: "It's the definition of a weekend, honey. It never lasts longer than until Sunday."

"But there's so much I want to show him!"

She gave his hand a squeeze. "And you will be able to do that. I promise." She looked up at Mark and gave him a smile. "I promise your Dad is welcome here from now on. Whenever he wants."

Mark looked at her intensely as if judging her intentions: "Whenever I want? Are you sure about that? Because I've never been one to pass up offers that I wanted to take. So you might be regretting that."

She shook her head: "No, Mark. I've learned that much in the past few days. I won't be regretting it. You're welcome here whenever you want. For a whole life-time."

Now a smile spread on his face. Actually, it turned into a full out smirk: "Don't be quite so certain. You might be regretting it sooner than you think. Now, if you'd excuse me for a minute, I have to…" He made a vague gesture with his hands, got up and disappeared outside.

"Where's he going?" David looked confused, but no more than she felt.

"I have no idea, honey."

They were finished with breakfast by the time he came back. Still somewhat bewildered by his abrupt departure, they looked at him questioningly.

"All settled." A determined look entered his face. "David, I have to run this by your Mom first. If she doesn't agree, it's nothing that needs to be discussed any further."

"I'm not leaving." David crossed his arms over his chest. "You two have been weird the whole weekend. I want to know what's going on."

Mark sat back down across from them. He sighed. "We've been weird because it's hard, David. Both your Mom and I have tried to spare you the details of our divorce. And as I'm sure you're well aware, we've avoided talking to each other about it for all these years, too."

He had David's attention now: "So, this weekend you've talked?"

Mark looked at her before he answered. She nodded permission. With very few exemptions, she believed in telling her kid the truth. "Yes, we have. About the divorce and a good many other things."

"And?"

His impatience made Mark smile: "And we've come to the conclusion that you've set us up. Want to explain yourself about that one?" He looked at David expectantly.

Her son was flabbergasted. "No, I didn't… I mean I wanted you to spend some time but…" He turned around to her: "Please, Mom, I only wanted to help."

She shook her head and tried to look stern, but she couldn't suppress her smile: "Oh David. I never knew you were so sneaky." She tousled his hair. "It's ok. I'm not angry with you. It looks like your set up turned out alright."

"Quite alright, actually", agreed Mark. He looked at her: "Are you ok with this, Liz? Can we talk about plans and the future? Or should we do this privately?"

She raised her eyebrows: "We have plans?"

"Yeah, we do. Or I have, anyway. That's why I'm asking."

His face had turned serious and suddenly her heart beat hard in her chest. "Go ahead. Since David's the one who tricked us into this, I guess he's going to have to live with the results."

Mark's smile was edgier than normal. "Alright then. David, I don't want you to get your hopes up. Because a lot of things can go wrong here. And we really have no idea what we're doing. But I know your Mom to be an honest person. Brutally honest, actually. So when she says that I am allowed to be here and stay with you, that I am welcome here, I believe her."

Suddenly she knew where this was going. But when he paused to look at her and judge her reaction, her mouth had gone so dry that all she could do was nod. Yes, she had meant that.

"So I've made a few calls. I'll have to go back eventually. There are things that need taking care of. But I wouldn't have to go back right now. And when I do go back - I wouldn't have to stay there. I could come back."

His eyes were fixed on hers. And where he was normally smooth and ready for any retort, his eyes were wide and nervous now, in this helpless moment after the plunge when you can't take back what you have said anymore. He cleared his throat. "If you want me, that is."

"You mean, Dad, you would like - be living with us?" David had sat up straight and his voice was a whole pitch higher than normal.

But Mark didn't answer. He had his eyes on her still, waiting for her reaction.

She felt her heart beating so loud that it almost drowned out the room. "A life-time…" the words tumbled over her lips while she tried to figure this out. That was impossible, right? It was impossible that he could mean what she thought she'd heard. But his eyes were so big, so frightened, that wasn't usual for him, he had said something that was important to him.

"If you want me", Mark repeated.

"Yes!" David shouted. "Yes, yes, yes. Of course she does! Of course you do, Mom? Right? Right?"

The whole world seems to slow down around her. She had to ask, in case she'd misunderstood: "You'd stay? Here? With us? You'd want to live with us? You wouldn't go back on the road?"

"I'd have to go back for a match or two every year. I still have a contract. But the knee's shot." He laughed silently: "And someone told me that I'm at a bad age for a wrestler. I think it's about time to find out whether I'm good at something else after all."

She was still stunned but this time she couldn't have misheard: "You mean that?"

He nodded. "A life-time, Liz. That's what you asked me for. And if you let me, that's what I'm prepared to give."

Could he do that? Could he just change the rules like that? In one weekend? She looked at him as if she'd never seen him before. He'd been tired and dejected when he arrived, but when he smiled at her now what she saw was new hope. She wanted to see it closer, needed to know it was real, so she walked over until she stood so close that he had to look up at her. She let her hand glide along the side of his face until it found a resting place there, her thumb softly stroking his skin while holding him in place. She searched his features, searched them for signs of the old and the new, of the husband she had lost and the man she had discovered. And she found them both, the old Mark, her Mark from the past, and the new Mark, a man she didn't know yet but whom she already trusted. A man, who was worth her trust.

She felt the wetness where her tears fell before she ever realized she was crying. And then she let herself fall forward, quite literally into him, and also forward into the abyss: "Yes, Mark, yes. I want you to stay. I want you here. I have always wanted you. I love you, Mark. I love you."


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The pasta was simmering quietly on the stove. She went to the fridge to take out the thyme. The fridge was decorated with a myriad of pictures and photos. She let her thumb glide over a photo she'd taken at David's college graduation. Both David and his father were beaming with pride.

Beside it was a picture in which Mark looked decidedly unhappier. She had hung it up anyway because it always made her laugh. It had been taken on the occasion of his final match. Liz was grinning broadly, relieved to all hell that this chapter of their lives was over. That he had not broken his neck or done any other permanent damage to himself in this last brutal fight. He, on the other hand, looked like he was cursing the fates for not keeping him eternally young and healthy so that he could go on. She smoothed the photo, where its edges were wrinkling. He had needed a while to come to terms with it but he had come to terms with his retirement and was happier for it.

Next to the picture was a drawing of all five of them, Mark and her and David and Ashley and Abigail that Ash had drawn for her when she was younger. She was glad that that had turned out so well. It had become clear early on that she'd never get along with their mother, and she couldn't say she blamed her. Liz had hated her guts, too, while the girls' mom had been married to Mark. But the girls themselves were different. She'd taken them into her heart from the moment she'd met them.

She freed a current photo of the two from being trapped under the grocery list. They were growing up so fast. They were almost young ladies now. It didn't keep them from coming to visit, though. She smiled. They didn't have the advantage of basketball that David had had, but Mark did his best to follow their topics, even though half the time he had no clue about any of their girl-stuff.

Also half-buried under the grocery list was an invitation to the annual BBQ of the high-school's sports department, courtesy of the basketball coach whom Mark still helped out whenever necessary. She gave it a more visible spot so that they wouldn't forget the date. In the process, her gaze fell on the address at the top of the letter. Mr. and Mrs. Calaway. There wouldn't ever be a day when that wouldn't make her heart expand a little.

And it drew her eyes to the group of pictures that occupied the whole right hand corner of the fridge. Mark and David in suits, both looking somewhat uncomfortable in their formal clothes but still smiling happily at the camera. Herself in a flowing dress, a bouquet in her hands. Not white, neither the flowers nor her dress. Innocence had not been required on that beautiful day, just love. They'd kept the party small. It was hard to explain to people that you married the same person twice. But she knew for herself that if she had to choose which day to relive, she'd choose this second wedding.

With a start, she became aware of the thyme in her hand again. "Y'all are too distracting", she wiggled her fingers at the pictures. Then she went back to her cooking.

When she was done, she went out on the porch.

As was usual for him at this hour of day, Mark was sitting in his rocking chair, enjoying the gentle rays of the evening sun. Rocco was lying at his feet. He'd been snoring when she came out but as soon as he noticed her, his tail started to thump the floor lazily. She chuckled. Their Rottweiler reminded her of Mark. Impressive to look at if you didn't know him, but most content lying lazily in the evening sun.

"Hey, darlin'", Rocco's welcoming had alerted him to her presence.

She walked up behind him and laid her arms around his shoulders. "Hey you."

He took her hands and held them tight.

"Dinner's going to be ready in a bit."

He kissed her fingers. "Thank you."

She laughed and kissed the top of his head: "What for?"

Without letting go of her hands, he turned around so that he could look at her. A deep peace had settled over his features in the past few years. It was now accompanied by a warm smile. "Well, for everything of course, darlin'."

* * *

_Author's Note: I hope y'all enjoyed reading this at least half as much as I've enjoyed writing it, because I'm guessing that would still mean you've had a pretty damn good time with Liz and Mark. I also want to say thank you for the lovely reviews! If you could see me you would know that I'm doing a little happy dance every time I read one. :) _


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